


Taste Test

by Misty_Reeyus



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: Eleanor tries yozakura anmitsu.





	Taste Test

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fairytaleweaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytaleweaver/gifts).



Yozakura anmitsu is amazing.

Eleanor never would have thought to try black sesame ice cream, nor would she have imagined that it would go so well with jelly, syrup, and bean paste. Yet, as utterly foreign as the dessert is to her tongue, Eleanor has to admit that it’s just as delicious as Rokurou said, possibly more. The various textures melt inside her mouth, the different layers of sweet dance over her tongue, and when she swallows, it’s refreshing, in more ways than one.

Rokurou himself sits beside her with his own helping, gobbling it up rather vigorously, his own bowl nearly half finished already when she’s only had a few bites. Before, perhaps, Eleanor would have sighed at such poor table manners. But today, his carefree behavior is something of a comfort.

It’s been nearly three months since they defeated Artorius, and this is the first time Eleanor has seen Rokurou since, the first chance either of them could get to finally fulfill that agreement they’d made back at the volcano. It’s been a hectic time for Eleanor—finding her footing again in the chaotic aftermath of the Abbey’s fall, and then helping Prince Percival in his efforts to reorganize the empire. And after spending that long surrounded by business people, and political figures, and the few capable exorcists remaining who all still remember her as a traitor, it’s a relief for Eleanor to spend an afternoon eating ice cream with a fellow member of their old, villainous group.

She’d really missed this type of companionship.

Hell, she’d just plain missed _him_.

“Thanks for getting me to try yozakura anmitsu, Rokurou,” Eleanor mumbles happily around a spoonful of ice cream. “This tastes incredible.”

Rokurou pauses where his face has been near buried in his own bowl, glancing up to meet her gaze with a grin. “Glad to introduce you.”

Eleanor rolls her eyes as she sees the dark, sticky smear shimmering beside his mouth. “Must you eat like an animal, Rokurou?” she says, more teasing than actually scolding. “You’ve got bean paste all over your face.”

Rokurou blinks, and then starts rubbing the back of his hand over his cheek—the opposite of the soiled one.

Eleanor giggles, “The other side.”

Rokurou switches over, but even then his aim is still off, and Eleanor gives a light laugh before reaching over to him herself. She wipes away the offending substance with her thumb and, before she can think better of it, puts her hand to her mouth and licks it up herself.

A beat passes—and Eleanor instantly flushes hard the moment she realizes what she just did.

She has definitely let herself get way too comfortable; otherwise, she never would have even dreamed of invading someone’s personal space so flippantly. If Rokurou is bothered by her actions, though, he’s not showing it, instead nudging Eleanor in the shoulder as he playfully whines, “Hey, that was mine!”

Eleanor forces herself to laugh again, but it doesn’t sound the slightest bit believable to her own ears, and she swears that Rokurou’s eyes remain locked onto hers for just a bit longer than necessary before he abruptly clears his throat and turns back to his ice cream. Even then, awkward tension still weighs down on Eleanor’s shoulders as her cheeks burn at her own boldness, her head swimming at a million miles an hour.

She and Rokurou had made a _connection_ during their journey with Velvet, something that neither of them had ever really voiced but that now sparks easily back to life. Eleanor had almost forgotten it in the few months they’d been apart, but now that Rokurou’s in front of her again, she recalls it all with utmost clarity. The way his cheeky grin puts her so at ease, the way his lack of manners actually amuses and comforts her, the way his scruffy hair and his gleaming eyes actually set her heart aflutter in her chest.

Eleanor really, _really_ likes Rokurou. In retrospect, she thinks she’s known this for a while now.

An idea swells into being with her brain, and the reasonable part of her instantly balks, screams that what she’s now thinking of doing is utterly reckless and will surely have consequences. But reason stopped being Eleanor’s priority long ago, and if joining up with the Lord of Calamity has taught her anything, it’s that life is too unpredictable, too fragile, too _short_ , to waste time not doing what you want.

Right now, Eleanor wants Rokurou.

And if she’s not being too optimistic, she’d like to believe Rokurou wants her back.

“H-hey,” Eleanor pipes up, and when Rokurou looks back at her, she points vaguely towards his chin. “You’ve…got more bean paste right about here.”

He doesn’t, actually, but right now Eleanor’s heartbeat is pounding in her ears and her palms feel sweaty, and she needs some excuse, _any_ excuse, to do what she’s _aching_ to do. Otherwise, she doesn’t think she’ll actually make herself do it.

Rokurou furrows his brow and brings his hand up to rub his face again, but Eleanor launches her hand out to grab his wrist before he can.

“No, w-wait! Let me get it.”

It’s now or never.

Eleanor swallows hard, swiftly scooting her chair closer to Rokurou’s and grasping his face by both sides. Rokurou startles, his eyes widening, but he doesn’t make any move to stop her as she captures his gaze with her own, then thumbs gently at the blackened skin beneath his right eye. She inches her own face ever closer to his, and Eleanor can pinpoint the exact moment that something _clicks_ into place in Rokurou’s head, because his lips part into an ‘o’ and his eyes shift their glance towards her own mouth.

With her other thumb, Eleanor caresses his bottom lip, half mesmerized, half terrified of her own sheer audacity.

“Is it okay if I get it like this?” Eleanor asks in a low whisper, because she needs a reason, she needs a _push_ —and she most definitely needs Rokurou’s consent.

There’s only a tense silence, one that stretches for what seems like forever, before finally, Rokurou nods. “Go ahead.”

That’s that.

Eleanor leans in before she can even realize she’s doing it, planting her lips upon his, muffling her whimper of relief against his mouth. Rokurou quickly reciprocates, his tongue teasing over the seam of her lips, and she whines happily against him as his arm curls around her waist. He yanks her ever closer, into a grip so strong and so warm and so _right_ that Eleanor knows, then and there and straight down into her marrow, that she’s made the right choice.

Eventually, Rokurou pulls away, and Eleanor takes the opportunity to catch her breath. Once recovered, she smiles at him, and he shoots her a tentative look in return.

“So…just so we’re on the same page,” Rokurou ventures, “this _is_ officially a date, right?”

Eleanor chuckles. “Seems so.”

“Good.” Rokurou grins brightly then, leaning forward until his lips are once again brushing against hers. “You wanna do this again sometime?”

Eleanor licks her upper lip, smiling as sugar tingles on her tongue, before giving her response.

“I’d love that,” she says, and eagerly closes the distance once more.


End file.
